Without My Wings
by ra1n
Summary: Time has passed, memories and much more have been lost. What can be regained from this mystery? Fang's POV.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I've been getting all kinds of messages (but surprisingly few reviews) on the Spill Canvas songfic that I wrote, many of them suggesting that I write a fic coming from Fang's point of view. I like the idea, so what the hell, I'm going to try it. I've picked a situation that I think I can write a story around. I've seen this story layout before, not just for MR fics, but for many other stories as well. Now I won't be so bold as to say that every author **__**nails**__** it, but I will say that for the most part, formulaic as it may be, people seem to enjoy this type of paradigm. Enjoy!**_

I've been working this construction job for about a year now. There's not much that happened before that.

Well, what the hell _is_ before that, many would ask. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure. I have no memory before 3 years ago. The problem is, I'm somewhere around 20 years old. I woke up on a street corner in Upper East Side Manhattan, early in the morning, propped up next to a stoplight with no memory of who or (as I am beginning to think more and more) what I am. Or was. The first 17 years (or so I'd like to think) of my life apparently never happened. For two years, I lived on the streets of New York, begging, stealing-- trying to eat any way I could. I could still remember the everyday parts of my life, but my long-term memory was apparently gone. Bummer, right?

I fell in with this construction company about a year ago, after someone on the street offered me a card, telling me that if I worked for them, I could have a bed to sleep in and 3 meals a day, guaranteed. Of course I took the job. Physical labor? That wasn't a problem. I had a feeling that before I woke up in New York, physical work was an everyday part of my life.

I don't know what my name was before I woke up, but the few people that I know call me Kevin. The people that call me by this name are mostly the ones that I work with. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but I work as a laborer. I pretty much live out of a trailer, as we do a lot of commercial construction all over the country, half the states of which I still can't even name.

I came home, a generic Friday afternoon, having acted as the lifting boy for everyone on the whole damn site. I don't have any real skills, at least, that I can remember, so I'm pretty much used as a labor mule. I'm ok with this, as I'm in ok physical condition, and to be honest with you, physical work doesn't take too much of a toll on me. For my size and weight, I'm a pretty strong guy. Stronger than most guys my build. Yeah, it's tedious and boring, and I'm not really ever in a good mood at the end of the day, but there _are_ worse things. I don't see much of anyone. I pretty much keep to myself. No harm in being tired and cranky when there's no one to take it out on, right?

I stepped into the bathroom of my trailer, a pitiful 5x6 room with a standing shower, a toilet, and a sink. I was covered in sweat and dust, from having worked 12 hours, and I removed my shirt. I turned around, looking in the mirror and studying the ragged scars tearing down my back, wondering, as I wondered every time I looked at my unclothed body, _what the hell am I_? I replay the day's events in my head, which pretty much consist of running back and forth, up and down the lift, carrying buckets, wood, tools, and supplies for the guys working their respective jobs. Not too exciting, I know. But it wasn't really my concern to have top-grade entertainment right now. I got paid ok money, I got a bed, I got a shower, I got fed. It was an ok life as far as I was concerned. I didn't need a lot of stuff, or a lot of time to myself. The time I did have to myself was spent wondering. Always wondering… who was I? What did I do? Did I have a family? Who were those important to me?

No satisfaction ever came of thinking about any of this. I mean honestly, what good is asking a question if you're the only point of reference? I mean, I was the only person I could even remotely consider for answers, so it was basically a moot point trying to "get to know" myself.

I turned on the shower, cranking the knob as far to the left as it would go. I always liked the water extremely hot. It feels like it can burn away all that I feel unsure about, all that I ever worry about, all that I ever wonder about, all that I could have, at one point in my life, cared about, and it helps me slap myself in the face and realize, _this is your life now, Kev. This is the way it is. What you were before doesn't exist. Only here. Only now._ I like to feel its warmth, running over my body, enveloping me like a lover who just wants to cuddle. The water is one of the few comforts I have in this life. I had long since given up on the prospect that I would ever remember anything from my old life.

A few Fridays before Thanksgiving of my almost-fourth year of my "new life", there was a knock at my door. It was most probably my boss, Lou, who only knocked on my door to tell me that he wouldn't be needing me for the next day or two. Which meant down time for me. Sitting around in the silence, with nothing but my curiosity, writing in my journal, keeping myself on the edge with speculations as to whom I could have been.

We had been on an industrial job in Arizona when I heard a light tapping on my door. I heard this from inside the shower, and at first, I thought about letting Lou wait until I was finished, which, knowing him, he would do. Either that, or he would just leave a note, most likely written on a napkin or a ripped piece of paper bag slipped inside the door jamb saying that he wouldn't be needing me the next day. I heard the knocking very clearly, even though I had been inside the bathroom with the shower running. I really don't know why, but my sight, my hearing… all of my senses are really sharp. Better than most people's. I chalk that up to the list of things that I should be concerned about. But enough bullshit. Answer the door, I told myself.

I stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel hanging from the bar on the wall above the toilet. I pressed my face into it, and then ran it backward over my hair. I didn't get the chance to wash myself yet. I had just been standing under the stream for 10 minutes or so. I patted my body (for the most part) dry, and wrapped the towel around my waist, thinking about what I'm going to say to Lou to bust his balls for interrupting my shower. I walk across what could be called my living room/kitchen, and over to the door, where Lou was knocking again, a little more forcefully this time. I began to think to myself, _why is it that I'm pretty much the only laborer that the company keeps on hand, for full-time work, but Lou, every so often, tells me he doesn't need me for work? I mean, I have my own trailer, which is really something, seeing as most of the laborers are guys they find on the street. What's up with that?_

I open the door, expecting to see an overweight, unshaven, balding, mid-50's man with kind eyes and a rough voice. This wasn't him.

In fact, I didn't know _who_ this was. She was a young, professional looking woman, older than me by far, with dark hair, skin, and eyes. She looked latina, but I wasn't totally sure. When our eyes met, hers widened, and her mouth dropped open. Then she smiled.

"Fang? Oh my _god_!" She pushed through the half-opened door, and threw her arms around my neck. I was stunned for a second, that small, secret hope that there was someone who could tell me who I was exploding inside my chest. But then again, what if this bitch was _crazy_?

"Fang?" I said to myself. What was that? Was that a nickname? If it was, what business did I have with this 30-something woman? I had no idea who she was, and what the hell she was doing in my trailer.

I forgot that I was wearing a towel, and I reached my hands up, quasi-instinctively to hug her back, even though I wasn't quite sure I wanted to know this woman. She pretty much barged into my house, calling me by a pet name, and even though I almost dropped the towel that I was holding, I was starting to feel at ease.

"Who… what is this? Who the hell _are you_?" I asked, my heart feeling a sudden chill. I could have very well known this woman, but I hadn't really ever (at least, in my three years with my memory) _known_ anyone.

"Fang? It's me… Doctor Martinez," she said, smiling, as if encouraging me to remember something that, for all I knew, wasn't there. I drew a blank. Other than Lou, and a few other guys that I worked with, I didn't know anyone, especially with the name Martinez.

"My name is Kevin," I informed her. Her hands swept down my back, and she gasped. She rapidly drew back from me, a look of stunned horror on her face. I thought, at first, that she had made a huge mistake, and was about to apologize for disturbing me, which would have calmed me down a bit. I mean, this was _weird_, to say the least.

"What happened to your wings?!" She asked me, looking 100% serious.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Sorry about the choppiness of the first chapter. I think that some serious editing is in order, so don't worry! Lots will come of this story. Fax, and I think a bit of Eggy is on the way. Enjoy!**_

"My what?!"

Ok. This woman was obviously a nut. I didn't know her before, and I _definitely_ didn't want to know her now. Wings? Christ. It was bad enough that my life was a giant bowl of _nothing_, without this idiot telling me that I had wings.

"Um, ok. You need to go. I don't know what you're talking about, and you're obviously… you know, nuts," I said in the frankest manner. I started to close my door, which sort of forced her backward.

"No, Fang. Listen to me," she protested, placing her hand on the door. "This is serious. We've been looking for you for so long! We—"

"Listen," I cut her off, not allowing her to finish. "I don't know you. And my name is _Kevin_. Kev-in. Not 'Fang'. Ok? We clear? I've got enough shit to worry about without you telling me that I have friggin' _wings_.

"But I—" she attempted.

"No," I cut her off again. "Listen, nutjob. I have things to do. I have shit to take care of, so kindly get the hell out of my house." I was a little irascible, and disappointed that my hopes had been raised up only to have been smashed by a crazy lady. She looked at me, appearing to be convinced that _I_ was the crazy one.

"You really don't recognize me?" She inquired. I shook my head. "How about…" she rummaged through her purse quickly. "Her?" She took out a photo of a smiling girl, who could have been about my age, with blonde hair, and brown eyes. I recognized the same eyes on the woman.

"No. Your daughter?" I asked. She nodded, smiling. "Listen, I don't know what happened. I don't what much of a memory of anything. What do you want with me?" I asked her. I wanted to know the truth. No more bullshit. "Do you know something about what happened to me? About who I am?"

"I know that you're strong. Stronger than most people. I know that your eyes and ears are better than anyone you know. And I also know that when you want to, you can fade into the background. I know that you can make yourself essentially _invisible_. You wonder why that is?" I stopped. My eyes narrowed. "And you can also heal very, very fast," she continued. When she finished her sentence, it felt like a knife of anxiety stabbed me right in the chest, and I felt the dribble of nervous fight-or-flight response running down my spine. She had caught my interest. "I know who you are. I'm here to help you."

No one knows about my body, or what it does. I looked her in the face again, studying, looking for any trace of dishonesty that would give me the slightest hint of a reason to fully shut my door and rid her from my life forever. I couldn't find anything, though. I couldn't find anything in this woman's face that tipped me off.

"Please. Just hear me out. Trust me for a few minutes. This must look crazy to you, but I swear it will all make sense in time." I was not really in the habit of trusting people, especially in my amnesiac condition. I cautiously backed away from the door, opening it, ushering her inside my "house". I wasn't aware exactly of why I was letting this strange woman into my house, but something inside told me that it was ok, that it was right.

"Sit down," I told her, as she sat on the built-in bench next to the wall. I was willing to hear what she had to say. I remembered that I was still in a towel, and then suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, I said, "Be right back," and rushed back into the bathroom to put some clothes on. I saw her nod with a smile as I exited and walked toward the bathroom. _What the hell is this?!_ _She knows about my body. She knows, or at least, has some kind of idea as to what I am. But what if she's one of those government agents, going to take me back to a lab and experiment on me for the rest of my life? No, you idiot, she identified herself as __Doctor__ Martinez. But what kind of doctor is she? Is she a medical doctor? A doctor of science?_ I sighed to myself, all of these thoughts rushing through my head, faster than the speed of light. I put on a pair of boxers, and some tattered (but clean) black work pants. Shit. There wasn't a shirt in here. I walked out of the bathroom, the towel draped over mu shoulders like a thick scarf.

I hadn't cared about what happened day to day for a long time. I figured, it's a huge friggin' world out there, and what are the odds of me running into someone that could have known me or my story?

I sat in the chair across from the bench that Dr. Martinez was sitting in. I eyed her cautiously.

"Why don't you start by telling me what you _do_ know," She suggests. Man, I hope this wasn't some sick joke. I mean, I didn't share enough of myself with the guys on the site for them to be able to play a trick like this. I also, secretly in my heart, hoped that this wasn't just some sort of mix-up, some sort of mistake. I actually considered, for the first time, that this could be a lead into my past, into that question that I had been asking for so long.

"Well, to be honest, I don't even know how old I am. I would say somewhere around 20 or so. My birthday wasn't exactly tattooed on my, and I didn't have any ID with me when I woke up, which was in New York City, by the way. For about two years, I scavenged. You know, living on the street, stealing, doing whatever, taking any chance I could to survive. I stole wallets, I did my fair share of dumpster diving… I was homeless. But then I met this guy who gave me this card, saying that this company was looking for workers, and I went for it. They were totally accommodating, they got me ID, a birth certificate, social security, all that. They even gave me a house," I gestured with my arms, showing her my trailer. "I don't have much, but it's steady."

"Do you know what happened to your back?" She inquired. I looked down, shaking my head. I was hoping that, at the same time, she could both give me some insight, and not bring it up. I felt confused.

"Fang- I mean, Kevin, there's really no way that I could explain it so that you could believe me based on what I tell you. I think you better come with me," she said. I shook my head again.

"No way, lady," I told her vehemently. I wasn't about to get in a car with some strange woman that I had just met. Even if she did know about me. A little.

"Listen, I only live 20 minutes from here. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I've been looking for you for a very, very long time," she attempted to assure me. I wasn't buying it.

"Prove it," I said coldly. I looked around, waiting for FBI agents to come through the windows. I had seen enough TV to understand how it works. I saw one of my shirts on the sad excuse for a coffee table that was bolted to the floor far enough from the chair that I had to reach uncomfortably for it. I put the shirt on, waiting for the woman to explain herself.

"O…k, I think this should do it for you," she said, a nervous grin creeping up into her face. She reached into the wallet that she kept in her purse, and pulled out another photo. "Look at this," she told me, as she handed me the picture. I took a look.

My heart jumped into the back of my throat, so hard I could practically taste it. The same girl that she showed me before was smiling at the camera, and next to her, eyes closed, and kissing her on the cheek was… me. I touched my lips unconsciously. I was bowled over. I stood there, staring at the picture, unblinking, unable to speak. _What the hell?_

"What… what is this? How did you get this?" I asked her, but it wasn't what I really wanted to know. I finally mustered the strength to say what I really wanted. "Who _am I_?"

"Well, I think it's… well, I think it's just better if you come with me," she told me.

"Ok. I'll go," I said, unsure if I was going to regret this or not. "Will… she be there? We are going to your place, right? Nowhere else?" I was feeling more and more insecure with each passing moment, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to have this happen to me.

"Yes. She'll be there. And she'll be… well, let's just say 'elated' is not strong enough of a word. She… well, she doesn't think you're ever coming back. None of them do. In fact, they think that you must have died.

"Them?" A sharp rap on my door made both of us jump. I walked over and opened it. It was Lou. Guess what he was about to tell me.

"Kev, take off Monday and Tuesday. Nobody's coming in anyway. Weather's supposed to be brutal," he informed me. I had to take a second to remember that in Arizona, "brutal weather" meant triple digits. Ouch.

"Alright, Lou. Thanks, man.

"Who's your friend?" He asked, looking past me through the doorway, noticing Dr. Martinez on the bench.

"Uh… just a…

"An old friend," Dr. Martinez cut in. "Valencia Martinez, good to meet you." She stood and extended her hand through the doorway, standing next to me. They shook, and Lou smiled amicably. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows as if to say "an old friend, huh?" I sighed, shaking my head, and I closed the door as he turned and began to walk away. I turned toward Dr. Martinez, and said,

"So. What now?"

"Well, you get ready, and I'll take you. If you want, that is." I took a moment to stop and think. This was all moving really, really fast. I didn't want to put myself in a situation that I was going to regret later.

"Ok," I said, after several seconds. I walked past her, over to the corner of the room where my shoes were. I grabbed my black sneakers, which had a clean pair of socks inside of them. I know, I know, it was a weird habit of mine. I put on the socks and shoes, and went back into what could be called my "bedroom", and into the top drawer of my nightstand, grabbing a butterfly knife that I had taken off of someone who tried to rob me while I was still on the streets in New York. I put it in my pocket. Just for safe keeping. I went to the sad excuse for a closet, and I put 2 shirts and 2 more pairs of pants inside a small gym bag that I had bought on impulse the week before. I grabbed a bunch of socks and underwear out of the nightstand, and stuffed them in the bag. I was ready to go, hoping to god… or whomever… that this was legit. I mean, I just hoped that this led somewhere. For three years, I've had nothing. Maybe trusting this woman was the right thing to do. Maybe it wasn't. But I needed to take any opportunity that I could to find out.

I walked out of my room, holding my bag. "Ok," I said again, ready to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

She smiled at me, and walked to the door. We exited my trailer, and moved across the dusty plane of the construction site, to a silver Acura. _Nice car_, I thought. _Well, duh. She is a doctor, genius_.

She got into the driver's seat, and I sat next to her. She was smiling, too big and bright for my own comfort. I had to say something.

"What's got you so happy?" I asked, sounding crass, but not meaning to.

"You, _Kevin_," she replied. When she said my name, she sounded like she was only calling me by that name to placate me, as if it wasn't my real name. Fang, I thought again. What the hell kinda name is Fang, anyway? We passed the rest of the ride in silence, as I paid not so close attention to the surrounding desert, and when we pulled into a wooded area, and she parked in a gravel driveway. There were two other vehicles parked there. There was a sedan, a BMW of some kind, and a Ford Excursion. A big truck, I thought to myself. I wondered if the doctor drove all three of them.

"Ok. Now I want to tell you something, Kevin," Dr. Martinez started as she turned off the Acura's engine. Her look had changed from pleasantly accomplished to very grave without my even noticing.

"What's that?" I asked, wondering why she was so serious.

"Your… family. They're inside this house," she began. I thought silently to myself. _Family? I have a family?_ "The thing is, you being here is going to… well, stir things up a bit. It's going to be a bit chaotic, and you're going to see things that might… upset you, to put it mildly. And your family…" Upset me? I thought about it for a second. I had lived with amnesia for the past three years. I had been homeless, eaten out of dumpsters. I live in a trailer. I can't afford much of anything. I don't talk to anyone other than my boss. What could these people do that could possibly upset _me_? I mean, there was the whole part where the good doctor mentioned my "wings", and the part where she knew about my body, and so I thought, maybe this whole situation was a little bit crazy. The doctor was still talking, but she was fading in and out, as the voice inside my head competed with hers for my attention. "So you see, they're not really your blood relatives, but they are _without a doubt_ your family." She paused, and I nodded, only having caught that last part. "Ready?" She asked me, excitement poorly hidden in her voice.

"As ready as I'm going to be," I clichéd. We exited the car, with my bag still in my hand. It was right about then that I started to feel that nervous hole start to develop in the pit of my stomach. _What if I was the wrong guy? What if she brought me in, and I really wasn't related to any of these people? Well, duh, idiot. She just said that you're not related to them. And what about __**her**__? Who was that girl that I was kissing in that picture? What was she going to think of me? Had I left bad memories with these people? Had I left good ones?_ I had to snap myself out of thinking, because before I knew it, we were standing in front of the door. I felt my breathing get a bit tenser, a bit shallower. The truth is, _I wasn't sure if I was ready for this_. I exhaled, hard and sharp, as if pushing all of the pent-up nervousness out of my system. Tonight was either going to be the greatest night of my life, or its biggest disappointment to date.

Dr. Martinez's key opened the lock, and we walked in. I can immediately remember smelling a candle burning, some kind of mint. I looked straight ahead, down the short hallway, and into the kitchen. There was a blonde guy cooking. He also looked as if he could have been my age. Maybe the brother of the girl in the photo?

"Hi Iggy," Dr. Martinez greeted. The blonde looked over, and smiled, removing a pan from over the stove, stirring and flipping its contents with a spatula.

"Hey Doc," he reciprocated. He turned to face us, and walked over to the kitchen doorway, still stirring the pan. "Stir fry?" he asked.

"Sure. We just need to get in the door here, Ig," she replied, gratefully. He put the spatula down on the counter, and walked into the foyer, still holding the frying pan and smiling.

"Who's your friend?" He looked uneasy, his eyes wandering around the room, not focusing on anything imparticular. I didn't take this as a good sign, and it contributed to my ever-growing nervousness. I held out my hand, to be polite, and said,

"Hi." Iggy extended his free hand, shaking mine, and before I could get out "I'm Kevin", he dropped the pan with an awful, repeated clanging as it bounced on the tile floor, spilling the contents everywhere. He pulled his hand back, as though mine had been very hot or something.

"Oh. My. God." He said, stopping at the end of each word.

"Iggy, get the others. Bring them into the living room. We have something that we need to talk about," Dr. Martinez told him.

"Ok." He replied. He disappeared, turning around, and going up the stairs to his left. Dr. Martinez pointed to the entrance of the living room to our right, and told me to sit. She sat on the opposite end of the couch, an impatient look on her face as she waited for these "others". Just then, I heard the thundering of footsteps coming down the stairs combined with the chatter of teenagers. _Ok. Here we go_, I told myself. _No turning back_. The first to enter the room was a very pretty black girl of about 16. She looked nonchalant until her eyes met mine, and she quickly slowed herself. She then let out the loudest, most eardrum-piercing scream that I believe I have ever heard. Hearing the scream must have quickened the pace of everyone else, as four more came into the room. The blonde kid Iggy, followed by two smaller blondes, looking about equal in age (12? 13? Maybe?), and finally, my mystery girl, looking just as beautiful as she did in our photo. Everyone was silent. The two younger kids stood in the doorway, looking stunned, their looks of amazement nearly identical. The black girl covered her mouth with her hands, as I noticed tears start to flow from her eyes. Iggy stood there, looking very confused, but not directly at me.

"Fang?" I heard, barely a whisper. The oldest girl, the one that had been in the photograph with me walked between the two youngest and over to me. I stood, feeling uncomfortable that everyone other than Dr. Martinez and myself were standing.

"That… that's what she called me," I gestured over to the doctor. "She says that you're… you're my family?" I asked, my voice sounding low, gravelly, and somehow unsure. We stood about a foot apart, and I noticed the girl's bottom lip start to quiver. Her breathing quickened, and she looked a bit dizzy.

"Fang," she choked again, just before the inevitable stream of tears slid down, making trails down her face. I was almost knocked over by the force with which she came at me. She embraced me really tight. I wasn't sure how to feel about this. We wavered a bit, but I regained my balance, realizing just how hard she was squeezing me. I felt relief coming off of her. I hugged her back, and felt her body spasm with sobs. There was an almost simultaneous "Fang!" emitted from the rest of the group, and I was rushed by the remaining four. I was group-hugged, kissed, and practically fought over until after about 15 minutes, when everyone's tears started to recede a bit. We all took seats in the living room.

"Fang… doesn't really remember too much," Dr. Martinez said. "He doesn't recognize any of us," she continued sounding on the verge of tears herself. I felt horrible. None of these faces stirred a remote memory, a vision, or even a dream. Nothing at all. The three girls were all crying. The two blonde boys were chattering, and I really couldn't understand what either one was saying, as it came out so fast that it was making me dizzy. The oldest was sitting next to me, holding my hands in hers, resting her head on my shoulder, the tears flowing silently from her. Normally, something like this would have made me feel really uncomfortable. But it felt somehow… right. I felt the emotion starting to get to me.

"Angel," the oldest said. "Check him out." The youngest girl stood up, off of the floor, and moved toward me. I wasn't sure what "check him out" meant, but I didn't think that they were going to hurt me, so I went with it. The girl put her fingertips on both of my temples, and closed her eyes.

"Relax," the girl called Angel commanded. I took a deep breath, and I cleared my head. Or at least, attempted to do so. I felt nothing, and after about 10 seconds, Angel took her hands off of my head. She looked upset. "There's nothing. He's called Kevin. He only remembers about three years back. He woke up in New York. And there are scars. Big scars." I looked at her in disbelief. A mind reading teenager? Oh man. This wasn't real. But I hadn't said _anything_ that divulged my name or anything else about me. Somehow she knew, and this weirded me out. "Max," Angel said, causing the girl resting her head on my shoulder to perk up. So. Her name was Max. I liked it. Angel said nothing further, but when I looked at Max, her eyes widened, still focused on Angel. Max then looked at me in disbelief, an almost-horror. She pushed me forward, and pulled up the back of my shirt. I was confused, and I quickly pushed away from her, forcing my shirt back down to cover myself. I didn't want anyone to know about those, but if this little girl was indeed a mind reader, what was the point of trying to hide anything?

Max looked at me again, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. I didn't like seeing this girl cry. Something inside me did not like her pain.

"His wings. They're… gone," she said, as if every word pushed a knife further into her stomach. Stunned looks arose from everyone, and then I got the vibe that everyone except me was crazy. I thought to myself, _oh Christ. What the hell are all of these people smoking? Wings? The whole family is a bunch of friggin' whack-jobs._

"No. We're not, Fang. Promise," Angel said to me.

Ok. Somehow, I got the vibe that life as we all knew it wasn't exactly what it seemed. I was stunned, and I couldn't even think of what to think next, for fear that she would know. Angel turned her head to Max, and she stared. Max nodded. _Wonderful. These people are telepathic_, I thought.

_Nope. It's just me_, Angel's voice resonated inside my head. I was bowled over, unable to speak. She smiled. Just then, Max got up, and removed the hooded sweatshirt that she was wearing, exposing a teal camisole. She turned around, her back to me, and arched her back forward. I watched two huge, feathery limbs free themselves from under the shirt, spanning across the entire room. I was completely speechless. But then again, it's not like that's really hard for me. I didn't talk much to begin with. _This girl had __**wings**_.

"We all have wings," Max said, still facing forward. She relaxed hers, and took her seat next to me. I don't even remember what was going on in my head at that point. I was too flustered to focus on anything. "And so did you."

"I'll be right back," I said, feeling the stress of this situation about to kill me. I got up, and walked past all of the kids, and just as I was about to open the door, it opened for me, and I had to step back to avoid getting hit.

"Mom, I'm h—" Another girl of about 18 or so stopped dead in her tracks, right in the doorway. She dropped the pile of books she was holding, not caring, and looked me dead in the eye. She brought her hands up over her mouth. "Fang?" she asked. That face… I knew her face. I knew her name, too. I hadn't seen her in so long… I don't even remember _how_ I know her. Like a big, flashing sign inside my brain, her name is clear.

"Ella?" She, like Max, rushed in, and gave me one of the tightest hugs I can remember getting. The rest of the family remained in the living room, and I felt as though suddenly, I had done something wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

I held Ella in my arms, confused as all hell as to why I knew _her_ name and no one else's. I was starting to soak in the emotions in the air around me. I could hear Ella sobbing softly into my shoulder.

"I thought… you were dead," she managed to choke out. I felt… awful. I felt the eyes of everyone in the living room on me. I remembered Ella's name and face, but not Max's. Or even my own. I broke away from Ella, and I didn't feel so well. I stumbled back into the living room, bracing myself up against the wall. _Too much. It's too much._ I sunk back against the wall, feeling my face grow very hot. My vision blurred, as I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I slid down the wall, and I let my head fall forward. I cried. I cried like I never had before. Long, hot sobs escaped from my lips, as if they were being pulled from me.

"Too much," I said. Or rather, tried to say. My voice broke, and I couldn't handle it anymore. I leaned back against the wall, unable to hold it in. With full force, I let loose my spastic crying spell. I felt arms fall around me. Warm, comforting arms that I could tell had every intention of soothing my every pain. I couldn't help the way I felt. All I could do was cover my face. Like a long guitar solo, my emotions coursed through me, and I wrapped my arms around whomever it was that was embracing me. Who else but Max? I could feel the tears stinging my cheeks, and I couldn't understand why I felt the way I did. I noticed that the sobbing wasn't just coming from me, either. Max was also crying, her face pressed hard against mine. She kissed my cheek.

"I missed you so much," she said. "I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone forever."

I looked up, noticing the expressions of everyone in the room. Ella was wrapped in Iggy's arms, still crying, as Iggy attempted to comfort her. The remaining four were huddled together, all of their faces a bit red with emotion. My attention returned to Max. Her eyes met mine, and she started crying all over again.

"Fang, oh, baby, what did they do to you?" She sobbed. She grabbed my shirt with her left hand, and let her head rest on my shoulder. I held her. I took a deep breath. I could see that she was in pain. Not her own, but she was feeling pain _for me_.

"It's ok, Max. I'm here. I'm here for you. Whatever we had, we can still have," I felt the instinct rise up inside of me. I held her tighter. I kissed her hair, and I knew that this wasn't just a trick. This wasn't just some sick idea of a joke or some mistake. I _had something_ with these people. Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks. Not the sad kind, though. The kind that come when you hear a beautiful melody, or when you realize that you have all you could ever want, and all that's left to do is enjoy it. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but them.

I accepted it. I looked around, and I knew, somehow, that they were my family. I couldn't deny them. The way Ella had looked at me, the way Max's eyes so honestly and lovingly looked into mine. There had to have been something there before. And I was all-willing to resume where I left off.

I regained my composure, and I stood up.

"Guys, listen. I'm sorry about this. I'm just… it's just a lot to take in. 2 hours ago, I had no idea anything like this existed, especially in my life," I wiped some of the remaining tears out of my eyes, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "You all seem to be… wonderful, incredible people. It's a shame that I can't remember what we had. But I promise you this: I will do my absolute best to remember everything I can, as long as you all can help me," I told them. I know, a lame contingency. _Of course_ they were going to help me. I was their brother. I was the one that they had spent so much time grieving over. I was the one that they were so happy to have back. I turned, reaching in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes. I walked out of the room, back over to the front door, as the chattering slowly started to resume. I heard Max's footsteps behind me.

"Where are you going, Fang?" She asked. Ugh. I was going to have to get used to this "Fang" thing. Every time I heard it, it was like a tiny episode of nails on a chalkboard.

"Smoke," I told her. I opened up the front door, secretly hoping that no other "relatives" of mine were going to come in. I walked outside, noticing that it was certainly darker from when I had gone in. I closed the front door, took a cigarette out, and searched for my lighter. No such luck. I had left it back in my trailer. I opened the door again, actually noticing the candle on the foyer table this time, and I took the candle outside with me. I put the cigarette in my lips, and used the candle to light it, setting the glass jar on the ledge next to the door. I inhaled, feeling the harsh cloud of smoke enter my lungs, soothing (or, more appropriately, dulling) my senses. I took another drag, and exhaled through my nose, finally coming to terms with what had just happened. _I had just met my family. They all had wings. The little girl could read minds. What the hell kind of freak did that make me?_ I heard the door open, and the boy of about 13 stepped out, his blonde hair spikey and his big blue eyes honest. He looked up at me. He said nothing as he followed suit, and practically attacked me with a hug. I returned the gesture.

"I missed you so much, Fang," he said. He sounded a bit nasal, as if he had either just been sick, or just been crying.

"I wish I could say the same," I told him, hoping that I didn't sound mean. "But I don't even remember your name."

"It's Gazzy," he answered. Interesting name. "You were like a… father to all of us," he continued.

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "I thought I was your brother," I said.

"Well, you were. But we were on our own for a long time. You and Max took care of all of us."

"What about Iggy?"

"Well, he helped a little, but there was a lot he couldn't do. You don't rem… he's… uh… blind." It was finally obvious to me. No wonder he didn't look directly at me, or didn't recognize me. But he freaked when he touched me.

"But didn't I just see him cooking?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, but that's the funny part. He can cook better than any of us," Gazzy explained.

"Hmm. I see," I said, taking another drag of my cigarette. "He freaked out, and dropped the pan when he shook my hand, though. What was that all about?"

"Iggy can identify people by touching them. That's kind of how he told it to us when he came upstairs. He said,

"Guys, there's something you have to see downstairs. Hurry up!" I looked inside to see Dr. Martinez cleaning up the spilled stir fry, and Iggy picking up the pan. I took another drag of the cigarette.

"So, what can you do, Gazzy?" I asked him, eager to know.

"What can I do?" He repeated back to me. Only it wasn't in his nasal, childish-sounding voice. It was in _my voice_. It was like an auditory mirror. Wow. I smiled at him.

"That's pretty impressive," I said honestly. He smiled, self-consciously. I was finished with my cigarette. I put it out on the bottom of my shoe, and I walked back into the house, Gazzy trailing behind me. I put the butt in the garbage can, just as Dr. Martinez walked up to me. She hugged me.

"I know that this is… very difficult to adjust to. But I want you to know that this _is_ your home. You can stay here with us if you'd like. You can leave that construction job, you can live here. With your _family_," she said. I thought for a second. I tried to encompass the whole story. So hold up. How the _fuck_ did she find me? How magical was it that she just _happened to live 20 minutes away_? I started to get that feeling of cold suspicion running down my back. I placed my palm over the butterfly knife in my pocket, the only thing I had for my own security.

"Yeah," I said, absently. "I'll stay, but I don't know about my job just yet. I mean, are you sure you have the room? You have a _lot_ of people living here."

"I'm a doctor. If I need to, I'll just buy a bigger house," she said playfully, smiling.

"So." I decided to shift a bit. "Who was the girl that screamed, and practically made me deaf?" The doctor smiled endearingly.

"That was Nudge. She's the typical 16 year old, if there _ever was one_." I thought to myself. Nudge? Fang? Gazzy? I don't get it. Name novelties aside, I was… well, interested, to say the least. Her face popped in at the other entrance of the kitchen, through the dining room.

"Did somebody call me?" She asked.

"No, Nudge," Dr. Martinez explained. "Fang just wanted to know your name."

"Aww!" She came over, fresh tears appearing in her eyes. "I'm Nudge. I was always waiting for you, Fang. I knew that you weren't dead. I knew that you were out there somewhere." She hugged me, and I noticed a dark brown set of wings coming out from behind her sweatshirt. She had cut two holes in the back so that they could… breathe, I guess. I felt a hand placed on the back of my shoulder. I turned my head, only to find Iggy standing behind me, with Max at his side. Gazzy had gone upstairs, and Angel… well, she was nowhere to be found.

"Did I really… have them?" I asked, my direction pointing to Iggy.

"Yeah. You did, man," he replied. "We relied on them. You really don't know anything about what you were, do you?" He continued, and I shook my head. Remembering what Gazzy had just told me, I then vocalized the word "no".

"You've got a lot to learn, then," Max said. I turned to her, and looked her in the eyes, and that's when I noticed the walls. They were _covered_ in pictures. Of all of these kids, since they were younger. I looked closer. A lot of them even had _me_ in them. I was almost always with Max. While looking at these, I started to feel my heart sink a bit. Max. She was apparently head-over-heels in love with me, and I couldn't even remember a thing. It wasn't good at all. I returned my attention to Max.

"Max, you know. There's something I'm starting to feel inside. I feel a comfort that I don't think I've ever felt before. Well, in my three years of 'existence', anyway. I like all of you. I hope that I can remember something of what we once had," I was surprised to found my sincerity genuine, as I reached over, grabbing both Iggy and Max, holding them tight.

"Bro, I missed you so much," Iggy said, smiling. We all held each other tighter.

"You're making me miss you, too," I said, laughing. "God, this is like, EmoFest. Anyone else want to cry some more?" Max laughed too, sniffling back more tears.

"And what's this smoking bullshit?" Iggy asked me.

"Hey! Watch it!" Dr. Martinez chided Iggy.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"I really can't make excuses. When you spend every day for almost four years wondering what life was like for 17 years before that, you tend to, well, smoke," I explained. "Tell me, Max," I said, breaking away from the three-way hug. "What happened to me? Did you just wake up, and I was gone?" She looked down, her face saddened.

"No," was all she said.

"Well, tell me. What did happen?" I asked, not wanting to avoid the issue any more than it already had been.

"We… you and I… fought. It was bad." She looked away, the memory apparently paining her deeply. "The last thing I said to you was…" The tears flowed, yet again. "The last thing I said to you was 'I don't care if you never come back.'" She paused, thinking for just a second. She met my eyes again. "I never knew what it would be like without you. For the longest time, I didn't eat, didn't sleep. I thought you were dead, or at least, dead to me. I didn't think you cared, or loved me, or any of us anymore. You took off, and you said that I would regret you leaving. I did. I did for so long," with that, she lunged forward, took my head in her arms, and kissed me hard, right on my mouth. She inhaled sharply, and I reciprocated, feeling the warmth, the utter love that she had for me. Dr. Martinez cleared her throat, a bit louder than someone normally would. Max pulled back, those brown eyes shining at me. "Sorry," she said. I wasn't sure if she was apologizing to me or to her mom, though. The door opened again. More people? Jesus. A man, mid 40's, wearing glasses and a lab coat. Iggy turned around.

"Hey Jeb," Max said. Jeb didn't look to surprised. Just happy. Pleased.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: I'm sorry about the "EmoFest" in the last chapter. I thought that everyone could use some crying/healing/tension breaking. I hope that it wasn't too much for anyone. I'm not sure if I overdid it or not. On with the next chapter. Enjoy!**_

I looked at Jeb, who had just walked through the front door, and I wasn't sure exactly what I should think. On one hand, this guy was eyeing me up like he had known me for years (a feeling that I had been growing used to over the past couple of hours), and on the other, the way Max greeted him seemed somehow less than savory. I was on my guard.

"Hello, Fang," he said calmly.

"Hi… Jeb?" I replied. He eyed me now as if he were looking at an old friend, and before I could protest, or even get another word out, he pulled me into a tight embrace. I felt… uncomfortable, to say the least. Like something wasn't right. Like something should have been there, but wasn't. But then again, look at my life. We broke apart.

"It worked."

I looked at him, puzzled, and not really sure if I wanted to know what the hell he was talking about. I averted my gaze, and Max took my hand. She pulled me over, and then said,

"Come on, Iggy. We have to talk to Fang about a few things." He absently nodded, and followed us up the stairs, and through the door at the end of the hall. I entered the room, and saw that it was kind of hard to distinguish whether it was a male's or female's room. It didn't matter to me, really. I was still totally in shock about what the hell had just transpired over the last several hours. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but that little breakdown in the living room was probably not the last.

We sat down on the bed. I was growing used to that ever-present feeling of "uncomfortable comfort" that I had with this family. My family. Maybe a better way to say it would be "disquieting" or "unsettling" comfort. I don't know. The feeling of stability, the idea that something was out here for me the whole time was something that I had to get used to. I know that I should have been more interested in delving into what that Jeb character said about "it working", but as of right now, I just wanted to be next to Max and Iggy. I felt especially close to Max, as it was evident that we were together before I went away. It wasn't about to all come flooding back into my head, but the seed was there.

And why, why was it that I remembered Ella and no one else?

"So. Where should we start… we could begin with The School; the torture chamber that we were raised in… where our "rooms" were dog crates, the awful experimentation that we underwent for 10 years, Jeb rescuing us, keeping us as his children, then abandoning us, leaving us for _dead_, making us think that he had been killed himself," she was starting to ramble. It was obvious that she had strong emotions for Jeb, positive or negative. Her voice continued. "Then there's the Erasers… the genetically engineered werewolves that were hunting us _constantly_, the whole living on the streets thing –"

"Yeah… I know what that's like," I interrupted. "I lived on the streets for like three years before I got my job." Max looked at me, not frustrated by my interruption, but taking in the information that I had given her. Processing it.

"Then there's Itex… the evil corporation that you helped us take down. Well, not really… you guys helped, but we were separated at the time."

"Another one of our fights?" I guessed intuitively. Max nodded, as if recollecting that situation was particularly painful.

"About Ari," Iggy interjected. "Ari was one of the Erasers, but he also was Max's half-brother. He was the leader of pretty much every group of Erasers that attacked us, and there were plenty of those."

"In the end, he decided to help us, though. You didn't forgive him. You didn't trust him," Max explained. "I don't exactly blame you, but that was the reason that we split up. It was you three guys and us three girls. It was so long ago… the three of us were like, fourteen." It was at this point that I realized that Max had been holding my hand. Very tightly, I might add. I didn't know how long she had been holding it, and I didn't really care. Even though she was clutching me, as if to keep me from going anywhere, my fingers felt comfortable interlaced with hers. "After that came Antarctica, and Dr. Fantabulous." Max grimaced a bit. I wasn't sure that I wanted to ask. "And after that was Hawaii…" she smiled, apparently remembering something wonderful. "That was when we finally became official. It was so nice."

"Yeah, you two finally cut the crap and admitted it," Iggy said in a pleasantly sarcastic tone. Max playfully smacked him on the shoulder.

"That's pretty much the long and the short of it," Max agreed. She looked so physically strong, and at the same time, so emotionally fragile. Well, I guess when your boyfriend who you thought was dead for several years walks through the door with amnesia, you tend to… well… freak.

I had lots of questions about the life I used to lead. I had a lot of things that I wanted to solve, but the one question I wanted to know the answer to above everything was the one that no one would be likely to be able to answer. _What happened to my wings?_

I hung my head, thinking about, digesting the little bits of information that Max and Iggy had given me, wanting to know more, but at the same time, not sure if I could handle more. I made the smart decision _not_ to ask her to elaborate on anything just yet, and all the while, Max held my hand tight, as if to say _I'm never going to let you go again_. I took comfort in this.

"I'm hungry," I blurted out, not even thinking about it. An hour ago, eating was the last thing on my mind. Hell, I don't think I could have kept down any food, even if I had wanted to. I remembered Iggy dropping the pan of stir fry when he touched me. Max looked at me and smiled.

"Ig," she said. "Could you take care of that?"

"Sure. I'll cook something. I'll try not to drop it this time," he replied with a crooked smile.

"Let's go downstairs," Max said, and we all got up off of the bed. We walked over to the door, and when Iggy opened it, we stumbled upon Gazzy and Nudge, with Angel behind them, holding a Scottie-ish looking dog. And it had wings. "I thought we had the eavesdropping talk a long time ago, guys," Max said, a note of exasperation in her voice.

"Sorry," they all said, in a badly synchronized chorus.


	6. Chapter 6

We all walked downstairs, the six of us plus Angel's winged dog. Max never let go of my hand. Iggy went into the kitchen, and the three younger ones followed us.

"Come outside with me. I want to talk to you," Max said softly. We walked toward the sliding back door, and Max turned around and gave the kids a look, which telegraphed "alone", and they reluctantly backed off. We went out the back door, and onto a very nice wooden deck, looking out into a seemingly infinite land of woods. The lights at the corners of the deck were low, and it was only then that I noticed a swimming pool to my left; in ground, with some nice ambient lighting.

"So, what did you want to talk to m—?"

The second I slid the door shut behind me, I was knocked for a loop. Max pushed me up against the wall next to the door, hard, and held the sides of my face with her hands. She stood on her toes, putting forth all effort to slam her lips against mine, in a kiss that screamed, _I love you with all of my heart, and I'll __**die**__ before I let you go again_. Her lips were soft, warm, and welcoming. I was frozen, though. I felt weird, awkward, stiff… as though I had never kissed anyone before, and that this strange girl was somehow mistaken. Well, as far as I could remember, I hadn't kissed anyone before. But as she moved her right hand around to the back of my head, and her left down, under my arm, onto my back, pulling me closer, deeper into the kiss, I relaxed, and I began to reciprocate. Max opened her mouth, and I followed suit, allowing our tongues to explore, to dance with one another. My arms instinctively slid around her, my right over her left shoulder, my left around her waist, resting on the small of her back, pulling her closer to me, letting her know that it was ok, that I was comfortable with this. This was… beautiful. I could never have expected this morning that I would be kissing a gorgeous blonde with _wings_. The kiss seemed to last a long time, although it was probably only for a minute or so. Eventually, we both needed air, and we broke. Max looked me in the eyes, looking exhilarated.

"Uhh… s-sorry," she said, panting. "It's just… I thought you were dead for the longest time, and for so many nights, I cried myself to sleep. I always thought… you know, 'what I wouldn't give to have him back for just one minute', and I wanted to tell you how much I missed you, and we always used to come out here and talk, and…" Her speech was getting faster, and she was sounding like I was forcing her to explain herself. "And when we got out here, it was like… I couldn't stop myself. All these years of wanting, of hoping, of wishing you were back here with me, and now I have you, and…" she trailed off, swaying into me, our lips meeting again. I was growing accustomed to the way her mouth moved, to the way she would hold me, and even though she was feeling… probably the deepest love anyone could feel, I was just starting to experience the beginnings of puppy love infatuation. I mean, look at it from my point of view: if some gorgeous girl told you that you have a wonderful romantic history (which you can't seem to remember), and then she starts kissing you as if you were _Prince Charming himself_, how would you feel? We broke again, and this time, she didn't talk… she only smiled. I knew in that moment, beyond any speculation that I had harbored before, that this place, this home was where I belonged. Those kids in the house? They _were_ my family. _My family_. And Max? She and I had loved one another ages ago… and I was already starting to feel something very strong for her, despite the infinitesimal amount of time that I had known her, which was about an hour or so. _No girl kisses a boy like that when it's just a "hookup". No girl kisses a boy like that when she's not 110% sure that he's the one and only match for her. _No. This was real, and it was finally starting to hit me, harder than ever. And when she looked into my eyes, I was just… sure, somehow. I knew that this wasn't all just a big mix-up. Fuck all the questions, fuck my past, fuck the background story… I was _here_. It was now, and I just knew… some voice in the back of my head just told me that this was all true. This time, I initiated the kiss. I threw my arms around her, and I kissed her to the best of my proficiency. I know, I know, I didn't have much experience in the matter, but I doubt she cared. _I_ kissed _her_, as passionately as I could, the wave sweeping over me, like nothing I could have expected. Somewhere, buried, deep inside the catacombs of my mind… I knew she was my lover. We kissed deeply, like celestial lovers separated by space and time, coming together for the first time in eons. Well, that was kinda what we were. Minus the embellishment.

We were scared apart by the unmistakable sound of the slider door opening. Who poked their blonde head out but… Angel. She looked from Max to me, and then smiled a great, satisfied smile.

"I love you guys," she said, sighing.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: Jeez. You guys are a tough crowd. I throw a little surprise Fax into the last chapter, and I only get one review? I mean, I'm not whoring for them, but hell, I didn't think it was **__**that**__** bad. I hope you all enjoy this chapter better than the last one. Maybe I **__**won't**__** put anymore Fax in this one. Would that be better?**_

I looked over to see Angel's just discernable blonde head sticking out of the open slider door. Max looked miffed.

"Angel, I need to be alone with Fang right now, ok hon?" Ugh. There it was again. _Fang_… I was going to have to get used to that. Well, maybe it could be like a nickname. Maybe that would make it easier.

Then again, I didn't even know what my real name was to begin with.

"Sorry, Max. But I heard what you two were thinking… it was so _romantic_ and… _beautiful_. Angel almost swooned. It was dark out, but even so, I think I saw Max blush.

"Please, Angel… just five minutes, ok?" Max bargained. Although, I think that if she wanted to, Max could have ordered Angel back in the house, and she would have listened.

"Ok, Max," she said complacently. She slipped back in through the partially open sliding door, and then closed it. We were alone again.

"Sorry about that," I said, not exactly sure about what it was I was apologizing for. I guess it was for… thinking too loudly?

"No. It's alright… Angel just likes to see me happy. You know, we took care of her practically from when she was a baby… you, and me, and Iggy, and Nudge… even Gazzy, we all looked out for her… we even flew 700 miles once, just to rescue her from the School," Max accounted. I thought about the School for a second, and the brief description Max had given me while we were upstairs. Science lab. Torture chamber. Dog crates. Something flashed through my head… I wasn't sure if it was a memory, or a reprojection of something that I had maybe seen on TV. A man in a white coat, with a tray full of syringes. "Not our longest distance, by far, but still… that was a hell of a trip. It was how I met my mom. I didn't know that she was my mom then, but I mean, really… what are the odds? And Ella, she was so sweet to me… just like a sister would be… they took me in; I was shot." I thought of Ella… remembering her face, remembering something about her, something that I just couldn't put my finger on. Then I thought about the last words that had come out of Max's mouth. _I was shot_. Shot? Jesus. What the hell had we been through?

"Good thing your mom's a doctor, then," I said.

"Veterinarian," Max corrected me. "I know, I know, again, what are the odds? Especially because I was hit in my wing."

"How did that happen?" I asked, thinking that I surely must have known in my previous life.

"Well, it was actually you, me, and Nudge. We were going to save Angel. I broke away from you two because I saw Ella getting hassled by a bunch of people. They were all boys, and they had friggin' _guns_. So I flew down, kicked some ass, and then they started blasting at me. So I took off through the woods, and they chased me. They kept shooting, and one of the shots clipped me. I was bleeding, I couldn't fly… it was bad. But then, I saw a house, so I moved closer, and who walks outside with a dog but Ella? And I knew that I needed to get help… so I sucked it up, and asked for help. It wasn't till like… months later that I found out that Dr. Martinez was actually my _mom_."

"Hell of a story. But it sounds a little convenient, if you ask me."

"I said the same thing. It would just so happen that I would save some random girl, and she would end up being my _sister_."

"Just like how I would live in New York, doing construction, and when we go to a job in Arizona, your mom would just happen to turn up, and live _20 minutes away_. It's just… it seems like a little bit of a stretch. I still wanna talk to Jeb about what he said "worked".

"You don't want to talk to him," Max said, a note of disdain in her voice. "He's a horrible person. _He left us for dead, Fang_. He went back to the School, and he was behind Angel's capture!"

"Then what the hell is he doing in your house?"

"My mom trusts him. I trust my mom. That's as far as it goes."

"He did this, didn't he?" I asked.

"More than likely," said Max, unsurprised and impassive. She had obviously though of this before. But then again, from what she was telling me about all of the shit that Jeb had pulled, I didn't put it past her not to trust him or know the way that he operates.

She and I were still standing very close. Our bodies were an inch away from one another. I put my arms around her.

"I don't really know how to say this without it sounding fake, but… this _feels_ like home. I mean, for a while, I thought this was all some big joke or something. I didn't believe what your mom was telling me. But that picture, man. What a wake-up call."

"What picture?" Max asked inquisitively.

"When your mom came to my trailer, she showed me this picture. It was of you, and I was kissing you on the cheek. It was a cute picture, but when I first saw it, I was like, 'how the _hell_ does this woman have a picture of me?' That's what kinda shifted me into the mindset that _this wasn't a joke_. And then meeting all of you, and just… seeing this house, seeing the walls, with all the pictures of you, and me, and the rest of the kids… it was like… it was like setting the first piece of a jigsaw puzzle inside my head." Max smiled warmly. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think it was her memory of the picture.

"You know, that picture that she carries around with her is our favorite. Hers and mine, I mean. I don't know if you saw, but I have a bigger version of it up on my wall," Max said. So, the smile on her face _was_ her remembering the picture, and the room that we were in was hers. Kill two questions with one answer. I like that.

We walked to the other end of the deck, near the pool, and sat down at a small glass table. I took the time to notice how nice, how well furnished the place was. I liked it.

"I don't know what it is, but I… feel like—" I cut myself off. I was about to say something that I think we had already established, and had I said it, it would have made me look supremely stupid. I would have said, "I feel like I've known you for so long."

"What? You feel like what?" Max asked.

"Like… I don't know. Comfortable, I guess," I lied. She smiled.

It was getting darker… almost so that we needed to rely on the exterior lighting. Max reached across the table and grabbed my hands again.

"I don't even know how to say it. You're home. We're together. I'm just… I'm happy. Really, truly happy for the first time since I lost you. Fang, I've missed you… in a way that words just don't cover. I can't even describe it to you. My heart feels ten times as big." She made me smile. I was beginning to bypass that whole crush phase and enter the infatuation stage. She was intoxicating me, with every gesture, with every glance, with every smile… I was beginning to feel like I had been set up with my soul mate. It was wonderful. It was like someone planned this whole thing, and yeah, I was still a little weirded out, but we fit. I got up, and moved to the other side of the table, where Max was sitting. I knelt down, and I put my arms around her.

"I don't know what it is that brought me to you… but if this isn't like… fate or something, then I don't know what is. I haven't even known you for a day, and I can just _feel_ how important you are to me. It's like something in the back of my head is steering me in the right direction, and it's all pointing to you," my feelings magnified themselves as I realized my words rang true. Max hugged me back, a true, loving, "I'm there for you, no matter what" hug. I could feel her wings through the back of her hoodie. I wondered if she was feeling the lack of wings on my back, the rigid, vertical, ripping scars where (to tell you the truth, I was still having trouble believing) wings _used to be_.

The slider door opened. Iggy stuck his head out.

"Dinner, guys."


	8. Chapter 8

Max headed toward the door. I got up and followed. We went inside, and I immediately went into the kitchen, dodging Iggy and Dr. Martinez who were both carrying big bowls of pasta. Damn, I thought. Iggy could whip food up _fast_. I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, and as I pressed the pump on the bottle of coconut soap, I felt something brush against my back. And then something snaked around my waist. Max was giving me a hug. From behind.

"Bend down," she ordered me in a whisper. I bent my knees, my hands still in the sink and covered with foam. I felt something warm and moist in the corner where my neck met my right shoulder. She was kissing me. But more than kissing me. In a mixture of teeth and tongue, she was French-kissing my neck. It felt wonderful. I moved my head to the left, further exposing my neck. She was incredible.

"Hey!" Someone said from the dining room. It was Dr. Martinez. "There are kids in here, you know."

Max stopped immediately. I stood upright. I looked around, all the while still washing my hands, embarrassed, feeling my face redden.

"Sorry," I said. Max still had her hands around my middle. She squeezed me tight, and I enjoyed it.

"Hurry up, will ya?" Max said with mock-impatience. I finished, and went over to the table. I must have still been blushing or something, because the rest of the kids, minus Iggy and Max were staring at me. Gazzy was looking at me in confusion, Nudge in shock, and Angel with an "oh, that's so romantic", starry-eyed gaze. I half-expected her to bat her eyes at me. She didn't, and I was relieved. After endless seconds of feeling uncomfortable, Iggy, Ella, Jeb, Dr. Martinez, and Max joined the rest of us at the table.

Jeb sat at the head of the table, with Dr. Martinez to his left, with Max to her left (and my right), Angel to my left, Nudge to her left, Gazzy to Nudge's left, Ella to Gazzy's left, and lastly, Iggy to Ella's left.

"I think it's only right that we all join hands and give thanks for what, and whom we have here tonight," Jeb said. Dr. Martinez nodded, and Max shot him a contemptuous look. I don't think that he came over for dinner often, and when he did, if this was a "regular thing", Max most certainly didn't like it. We all took hands, Iggy the most reluctant, and Max appearing to be the most… sated, I guess. She had her mother on her right, and me on her left. She squeezed my hand, and interlaced her fingers with mine. It felt nice. It felt natural. It felt _right_. "For what we have, and the privilege to share it with one another, we give thanks," Dr. Martinez said in a sterile manner. She didn't appear to be that emotionally invested in saying grace. To tell the truth, neither was I.

We ate in silence. The food was delicious, and I voiced my opinion to Iggy. He thanked me, and that was pretty much the extent of the conversation at the dinner table. It didn't feel "uncomfortable" per se, but it was borderline. Sitting next to Max was nice, but sitting next to Angel was a little bit awkward, thinking that every second, she was sneaking around inside my head. I mean, after all, she was 12 years old, and 12 year-olds are not exactly famous for their good judgment.

But she seemed innocent enough.

Famous last words, right?

We finished dinner, and we all helped to clear the table. We were done in 10 minutes. 8 people do come in handy when it's time to do the dishes. Once we were finished, the 6 of us "kids" went downstairs, into the finished basement, which was definitely the coolest of its kind. All of the latest electronic toys and gadgets, big screen (well, I should say _huge-screen_) TV, surround sound… all that good stuff. Nudge and Gazzy, after Iggy made a suggestion for a movie, immediately started arguing over what was going to be watch, inserting both their own choices, and throwing Iggy's out the window. Ella was on Iggy's back, holding on with her face buried in his neck. Those two were adorable. I immediately sat down on one of the loveseats, next to Max. She snuggled close to me, so that we were sharing the same cushion. We could have fit another person on the two-seater. Max told Gazzy and Nudge to knock off the arguing. Max picked out the movie. It was one that I hadn't seen before. Since Gaz and Nudge were arguing between _Worlds Most Dangerous Explosions_ (a 12-hour boxed set of rapid-fire clips of shit blowing up) and _Twilight_ (ugh… even as a construction worker, I was sick of hearing about it. The movie wasn't even that _good_.) I was glad that Max picked _I Am Legend_. That was an alright movie. Not my favorite, but it was better than friggin' _Twilight_. And then it hit me. Funny that the blind kid should make the first suggestion for a movie.

Ella put in the DVD, and we sat back, turned off the lights, and we watched. The movie was, as far as I was concerned, playing in another room. It was background noise. I was still taking in the fact that I was here. I was taking in the fact that these _incredible_ kids were my _family_, even if we weren't directly related. Shit, Angel was a _mind reader_. Iggy knew who I was just by _touching me_. And to top it all off, _they all had __**wings**_. I mean, I know that I'm strong… really strong, and I always knew that I could avoid being seen when I wanted to, but… god, there had to be something more at work here. There just had to.

I felt the call of nature hit me, and I asked Max, who was resting her head on my chest where the bathroom was. She told me, and I got up. I went up the stairs to the main floor, and went past the dining room where we had just eaten and Dr. Martinez and Jeb were now having coffee, and on the other end of the house, around a small bend was the door to the bathroom. I walked in, emptied my bladder, and once I had washed my hands, I left the water running, and allowed myself to capture my face in the mirror. I felt as though, when I had looked in the mirror in my trailer earlier today, I was a different person. So much had happened in a matter of a couple of hours, so much that I had never expected to happen… it was incredible to me. I was even starting to get used to being called Fang. Kevin? Yeah, that's what I called myself before. But I don't know. With Nudge, Gazzy, Angel, Ella, Max, and Iggy, it felt right. I felt… at home. Pun fully intended, by the way. I put my hands under the tap for the final time, wetting them with cold water, and then splashed my face with it. The sudden sensation of cold on my face was a small wake-up call, a drawing back to reality for me. I dried my face using the towel hanging behind me, and I left the bathroom. I passed Jeb and Dr. Martinez again, and I returned to the basement, resuming my seat next to Max. She immediately took hold of my still-damp hand, and put her head back on my chest. God, I could get used to all this affection. I liked Max a lot, and this was just hours after meeting her for the first time (that I could remember, anyway).

We were about halfway through the movie, where Will Smith, as Dr. Neville, wakes up in his apartment, and the woman is cooking breakfast for him, and he starts to recite the lines of _Shrek_ when I heard Jeb's voice call down the stairs,

"Fang, can we see you upstairs for a second?"

"Yeah," I called up, getting out of the loveseat. Max didn't let go of my hand, though. "I have to—" I said, gesturing over to the stairs.

"I'll go with you," Max said. Man. She really didn't want to separate from me at all. But I was ok with that. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to be apart from her, either. Especially if I was going to be talking to Jeb. _Well,_ I thought. _Maybe now I can have some real answers._


End file.
